The Hogwarts Journals
by Skaja VII
Summary: by A1 & J- For lack of a better title...anyway, some nonsense. But everyone loves nonsense. Right?


Disclaimer: Do we look like the reason the fifth book is taking forever? DO WE LOOK LIKE IT?! Ahem. Frustration, as you can see. If either of us read the second book again I think we will collectively vomit. And we wouldn't want that to get on the receipts for our pre-ordered copies of the feature film "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone".  
  
Authoress' Note: This doesn't make sense, nor is it supposed to. We were bored.  
  
It was a dark and stormy sunny Saturday morning at Hogwarts.  
  
"What the hell?"  
  
Shut up, Hermione.  
  
"But it doesn't make sense!"  
  
We know.  
  
So, on this dark and stormy sunny Saturday morning, Harry's glasses were askew- and all was well.  
  
Harry reached up to check his glasses. "Hey, they're not askew!"  
  
Ron snorted. "That's what you think."  
  
Hermione glared at Ron… she was upset at the prospect of a dark and stormy sunny Saturday morning, "Shut up twit… SHUT UP!!!!"  
  
"Hermione has officially gone bonkers…"  
  
Draco walked by in his favourite neon orange Muggle shirt. "So what else is new?" He sat down at the Gryffindor table. The others acted as if nothing was strange- except for Hermione, who had noticed that Draco had no pants on.  
  
"Malfoy, you don't have any pants on!"  
  
Draco shrugged and waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Ron. "Oh. Right."  
  
Ron put an arm around Harry. "Let's jam."  
  
Harry pulled out his electric guitar and amp and Ron took out his trombone. Draco pulled out a violin from his monkey pants.  
  
"Wait a minute, he isn't wearing any pants!"  
  
Shut up, Hermione, we are trying to listen to Ginny sing…  
  
"We need to save tomorrow…"  
  
"Oh! Is that a jam session I hear?" Snape asked in a phoney voice, and pulled out an oboe.  
  
"Now that's just wrong."  
  
Shut up, Hermione!  
  
"You can't quash my freedom of speech!"  
  
Of course we can.  
  
"But that's illegal!"  
  
Not according to sector 17, verse 20 of our fic bylaws, in which Sassy claims she is the ultimate ruler, and can do whatever she wants (and that extends to me, because I'm helping).  
  
(Damned strait!)  
  
Hermione sighed.  
  
Neville grabbed his wooden block, which was stored in the trapdoor of his skateboard. Feeling the beat run through her body, McGonagall began to break dance.  
  
"Minerva! I never knew!" cried Dumbledore as he tangoed with Professor Flitwick.  
  
"Now that's just plain foolish!"  
  
For the last time, Hermione- shut up!  
  
"How would Harry have learned to play the ecklectric guitar… they won't let him have anything!"  
  
Actually, it's electric.  
  
"Shut up Sass and Jazz… how is it we know that we are in a fic?"  
  
Only you…  
  
"I see."  
  
"We need to save tomorrow…" Ginny crooned.  
  
Suddenly, the dark and stormy sunny Saturday morning turned to a bright and cheery mysterious stroke of midnight. Techno music began to fill the Great Hall and bright stage lights swept the room. Everyone began to party down, except for Goyle, who parties up.  
  
(We're not sure why).  
  
And Hermione, who doesn't party at all.  
  
(There's a reason for that).  
  
"What's the reason?"  
  
I dunno, traumatic church dance experiences?  
  
"Sure. Why not."  
  
So anyway…  
  
"No! I refuse to go anyway… I will go one way! The right way!"  
  
Shut up, Hermione. You will be bisexual if we want you to be!  
  
Hermione kisses Ginny.  
  
"I do not!"  
  
You can't change the past, Hermione. You can only change the future, man!  
  
"Fine, I'll never kiss Ginny again!"  
  
Hermione kisses Ginny.  
  
And Draco still isn't wearing any pants, except for his invisible monkey pants, and his blood red pants that aren't as much pants as much as the silk fabric of the universe, so they don't count.  
  
"What the hell?"  
  
Hermione, I'm warning you…  
  
Hermione grumbles her dissatisfaction.  
  
Harry's glasses are askew…  
  
Harry reaches up to adjust his glasses and instead grabs the amazing epiphany ball, which knows all. "Hey, I've been wearing the same glasses for four years, and they're always askew, furthermore accentuating the weirdness of my hair. Perhaps I should get contacts- or better yet- fix my eyesight with a spell."  
  
Lav and Pav, who aren't worthy of having their full names written out, ran up to Harry.  
  
"Chorea praesul!" they intoned.  
  
Harry began to dance in a circle and his glasses dropped to the ground.  
  
And Ron wasn't wearing any shirt, but he's prone to losing stuff, so no one minded. Except for Draco. Who could see his invisible purple polka dot turtleneck blouse and his muscle shirt created of the star-shine satin of the fabric of space/time.  
  
"Okay…" Hermione rolled her eyes.  
  
Don't roll your eyes at mee! Nevah!  
  
"Nevah?"  
  
We speak good English.  
  
Ron looked over at Harry. "Hand me that amazing epiphany ball which knows all, would you?"  
  
Harry tossed over the epiphany ball to Ron and he took it in his hands. "Hey, I love everything that moves. Because Sass and Jazz say so."  
  
Underneath the disco ball, Draco moved. And Ron loved him. So they came together and formed a single being that was fully clothed.  
  
"What in Merlin's name you crazy son of a-"  
  
We're girls, you know.  
  
"You crazy daughters of-"  
  
Voldemort?  
  
"Yeah!"  
  
Jesus is Voldemort!  
  
"Huh?"  
  
Not the dark! Jesus will get you in the dark!  
  
And so now it was an annoying bright neon green sunny moonshine starlit Monday day.  
  
"I give up."  
  
That's the right attitude, Hermione!  
  
The red-haired white-blond silver-eyed blue-eyed freckled and completely pale entity that was Draco-Ron started to hit on the exotically beautiful lavender-haired brown-eyed entity that was Lav-Pav.  
  
But then two narrators who shall remain unnamed felt inordinately jealous and wondered exactly why they weren't together with Draco and Ron- as separate entities of course. So these two anonymous narrators who were physically perfect in every way, and in this I don't mean they were blonde and blue-eyed, for that would be a crime in the eyes of Sass and Jazz. They were both kind of red-haired, one with the longest wavy copper hair you'd ever hear described, and one with chin length locks of shimmering auburn. The first had deep cocoa eyes with a bright, mischievous twinkle, and the second mysterious green eyes with flecks of brown and yellow-gold in their depths.  
  
"That's the most sense you've made in this entire fic- but I'm put off by the fact that these two are very likely to be Mary-Sues."  
  
Oh no. You foiled our secret. How did you guess.  
  
"Oh, shut up."  
  
The entity that was Draco-Ron became two separate entities that were Draco and Ron and no longer in love with each other. However, to keep this fic away from being like the status quo, we'll say they were still friends.  
  
"You disgust me."  
  
Don'tcha love it though?  
  
So Draco and Ron approached the two unnamed narrators-  
  
"Who are also known as Sass and Jazz-"  
  
Shut up! And they instantly fell in love because we felt like it.  
  
"Typical."  
  
But then Harry showed up and Jazz dated him for a while before she and Ron professed her love of one another and Draco and Sass broke up for no good reason besides angst purposes but they got back together and their love grew stronger.  
  
"What?"  
  
Sorry, wrong fiction. Anyway…better stop making so much damn sense.  
  
"That was making sense?"  
  
A modicum, and that's far too close.  
  
Harry waved goodbye as he went forward in time to 2305 to do some reconnaissance work, finding out about Voldemort's favourite type of spaghetti sauce (Ragu, by the way). Lav-Pav cried, for it- er, she- had hated Harry, and missed him ever so terribly now that he was near. They took up a bassoon and pumped out a spectacular bass line.  
  
"I…huh?"  
  
"Let us all feast on Ragu!" cried the auburn-haired Mary-Sue.  
  
And so, because of the auburn-tressed Mary-Sue-  
  
They feasted on Ragu…  
  
And linguine, too.  
  
"That rhymed- why- it's almost a bloody poem!"  
  
"Yeah, we'll show 'em- we'll write a poem…with rhyming couplets, and random doublets- made of the silk in the star-shine of the Milk-y Way. Hey!" sang the two Mary-Sues.  
  
Hermione looked up at the bright neon green sky and grimaced at the blinding light. "I'll let you continue on with your rambling- but never do that again!"  
  
You'll 'let' us, eh?  
  
"Er, yes. Of course. I'll permit this to go on. Because you know I could hex you right out of your monkey pants."  
  
You keep telling yourself that. 


End file.
